Sunday 17th May 2020

May used to be the month of birthdays: Mum, Dad, Granddad, 2nd wife and her son. And now there are none. So, no need to have to panic buy presents at the petrol station. But not any more, they are either long gone, or divorced or I have no contact.

So it goes, so it goes.

I see a wedding photograph, can't remember which wedding (!) but they're pretty much all gone.

Its what happens.

And on our school year FB page, we lost another two people. We don't seem old enough!

But I guess we are.

And so to Sunday: and Jools had arranged us to meet Mary in Dover, but had second thoughts about crowds, so Mary was coming to walk from hours. You can have the car to do what you want, Jools said.

Orchids.

Orchids it was.

So, we get up have a coffee. Jools did a session on the cross trainer. It was seven. Time was wasting, so I call out to Jools in the shower: "I'm off, see you later"!

I have a charged battery, and an reformatted memory card, and the whole county to (legally) explore. Where first?

Folkestone Down.

Up above the town there is a small are in which one of the UK's rarest orchids grows, the Late Spider, I had seen a flowering spike the week before, but more should have been out.

I drive into Dover, then along the Alkham Valley where the Drellingore has now dried up once again. Little traffic about, and further on towards Castle Mount, very few other cars about either.

I park on the lane and walk through the gate, dodging the bags of dog poo which seem to be more of a problem this year, walk up the slope to the reserve area, and try to find the spike I snapped last week. But there was no sign. I could have missed it, but as I spotted two much firther back in flower, and one spike just opening, I suspect it had either been munched or stolen.

Sigh.

Orchids bring out the best and worse in people, and another theft from this sensitive area of a nationally rare plant is bad news. I hope the three spikes I saw will get to mature.

I hope.

I move on.

Park Gate is just up the Elham Valley, and home to another of Kent's rarest plants, the Monkey Orchid, and they should have been coming into flower.

I arrive at the site, and I am the only one there, three paddocks to myself. It is sunny but cool, with long shadows falling down the side of the down.

I search for ten minutes, then find the first partially open spike. There is no UK orchid like it, and there are many in a similar state or soon to open.I snap many, though most are so similar. IN the second paddock I find one spike mostly open.

Into the last paddock to hunt for Fly, GBO and anything else I could find.

The Early Purple are mostly over, but for those needing their fix there were a couple still worth snapping, though I pass over the chance, heading up and along until I reach the slight hump showing where the Fly would start. And after a couple of minutes searching, I spot the first spike.

IN the next quarter of an hour, I see many more, including one with a yellow fringe, which may or may not be some kind of var. Looks purdy though.

One last look for the GBO at the back, then back to the car and on to the next site, the bowl at the bottom of Wye Dwn where there is another colony of Late Spiders.

It takes 20 minutes to get there, down narrow lanes clogged with Lycra-clad cyclists freed from lockdown and all out to get their Strava rides in. Who am I to judge?

I reach Bulltown, and in front of me as I park there is a field full, not of bulls, but of cows. Hundreds of them it seems. I take a shot, then climb over the stile into the reserve, take a photo of the swathes of crosswort swaying in the light breeze and walk to the bank where there was already several cages over spikes of orchids, though only one was open.

I snap that, check for other orchids and spot another rosette, but leave it uncaged, walk back down the back, and then am diverted by several butterflies: Common Blues, Small Heaths, Brown Argus, Dingy Skippers and a couple moths too. I snap a Common Blue basking, and leave it at that, as my final call was a long drive away near to Ramsgate.

I had seen there were Bee Orchids in bloom on the Isle of Wight, so hoped the warm conditions early in the spring would have brought them on at Pegwell Bay, but there was always the Yellow Man Orchids as a consolation if not.

As I drive I listen to Peter Hook talking about the 40th anniversary of the death of Ian Curtis. I can remember that happening, though I wasn't a fan at the time.

The car park at Pegwell was closed, but I nab the last space on the road, reversing the Audi into the spot first time, and doing a good job.

I grab the camera and go down the steps behind the Viking ship, and at once see a fenced off area where some serious heavy plant was parked, but then I remembered seeing a new sewer being laid on the road above, so this was just offices. I dread the site being developed, as there is a riot of wildlife and plants now making their home on the old hoverport.

A little further on, it was back to normal, all overgrown and scattered with dog shit.

I find the colony of Yellow Man Orchids, and three spikes of Lime ones too. I snap many of them.

But despite looking in many places, I see no sign of a Bee, just a single rosette. We will go back in a week or so.

And that is it, it was now nearly midday and I had done a good morning's orchiding, and you know, despite the lockdown, I didn't miss that much, just lots of Early Purples and Early Spiders. But there's always next year.

I drive back home, parched, so have a pint of squash, then I realise I hadn't eaten, so I prepare lunch: rib eye.

I boil the potatoes, then once they are done, power up the fryer, warm the griddle, slice the mushrooms and get cooking. It all comes together at one, and Jools had even remembered to put a bottle of pink fizz in the fridge.

Perfect.

Not the best steak in the world, but with lots of ground pepper rubbed into them, they cook well, and lunch is excellent.

We listen to the radio, or I do. Jools falls asleep in the garden and gets rather red.

We have ice cream, coffee and then it is time for tea; croissants and a ham roll. All lovely stuff, before I play Jools and Uckers and just about scrape a win.

Then it is #wildflowerhour to upload pictures to Twitter for.

Usual stuff, but all very pleasurable.